King of Hell
by SailorYue
Summary: In an au where Crowley overthrows Lucifer and becomes King of Hell, how different will things be?
1. Chapter 1

This was based on a dream I had a while ago, took some time to give it plot... Hopefully I'll keep a steady schedule for updates

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Aziraphale felt nervous. It had been so long, hadn't it? His trepidation wasn't from going to hell, although an angel willingly going there without Falling is unheard of in it's own right, but rather from meeting with the King of Hell himself. Deep down he knew the king would never allow any harm to happen to him, or at least he hoped. He fiddled with his pinky ring as the elevator sank below the earth. He took a deep breath and put on his Principality face as the elevator slowed to the bottom floor. The time for fear and worry had past. When the doors opened, he marched forward with purpose, heading to the desk that sat in front of a large ornate door. The demon who sat behind the desk stood up as he approached. The angel didn't blink as the demon, who he saw in the low light had scaly skin and sand colored hair tied in a pony tail.

"What are you doing here, wank-wings?" The demon had a lisp, their teeth almost too large for their mouth.

"I've been requested to meet with the King." Aziraphale's face remained unchanged, somewhat grateful he did not need to breathe, as hell smelled like mildew and mold.

"Oh, really? And just what angel would the Lord want to meet with?" The demon, who Aziraphale noted by the placard on their desk was named Dagon, Lord of the files.

"Aziraphale, Principality, Angel of the Eastern Gate."

The demon hissed at his title. Most demon's knew by now who he was, and knew it would be unwise to upset the King by delaying what had to be an important meeting.

"Oh. Yes, right this way." Dagon knocked on the door and waited for a response.

"Enter."

Dagon opened the door, ushering Aziraphale in. He stood by the door, waiting until the door closed. He looked at the ornate tone where the King of Hell sat. On his left and right stood two demons, his bodyguards. One had black eyes with a green toad on his head, the other had an orange chameleon upon his. Neither showed reaction to the angel in the doorway. The king leaned forward, elbows resting on the redwood desk in front of him.

"Ah, well isn't this a surprise!" The King of Hell's grin grew. "How have you been, angel?"

"Hello, Crowley."

"Out." Crowley stood up and walked out quietly, although Aziraphale noted the darker demon's chameleon changed from orange to dark red, as did his eyes. He gave no reaction as they passed him. Crowley walked over to a table against the wall. "Can I interest you in a drink?"

"No. Thank you." Crowley gestured to the chair in front of the massive desk. Aziraphale sat in the deceptively comfortable chair. He took in his old friend. It had been so long since they had seen each other, Crowley had changed so much. His long red hair was tied in a queue, curls hanging between his shoulder blades. He wore a five piece suit in varying shades of blacks and greys.

"So to what do I hold the pleasure of this visit? How have you been?"

"Oh, I suppose I've been well."

"Your bookshop doing good? Doing lots of good deeds?"

"Yes. I suppose being King of Hell is treating you well?" Aziraphale felt awkward. This wasn't like their old game of cat and mouse. He was a mouse in the lion's den. it had been long enough that he wasn't even sure that they could even still be considered friends.

"Ah, pretty much the best gig I could ask for." Crowley took a large swig from his glass, immediately refilling it before taking a seat at his throne. "So, what are you doing here, angel?"

"Well, I thought you had extended an open invitation that I could 'pop in for a visit at anytime.'"

The King of Hell narrowed his eyes; no longer were they shielded by dark glasses. Instead, they were visible for all to see and wholly yellow, as if he was embracing his demon nature. "Yes. But this is the first time in thirty years you've accepted my invitation. What's going on, Aziraphale?"

The angel leaned forward, "There's been talk in heaven." He had lowered his voice enough that Crowley had to lean in closer. "The archangels mention that it shouldn't be too long until Armageddon will begin."

Crowley sat back with a snort. Then he started laughing hard. "Angel, that's never going to happen! I took care of Lucifer. No Satan, no end of the world!" He grinned broadly. "We're perfectly safe."

"'We?' Crowley, there is no 'we' here. There hasn't been a 'we' in thirty years."

"Oh calm down angel. We can pick things up right where we left off. I-"

"Where we left off? Crowley, that's not possible! Not like this." Aziraphale stood up, a flush growing on his cheeks.

"You're being ridiculous, angel."

"No! I'm trying to be reasonable. You're the one being ridiculous. You have to take this looming threat seriously, Crowley. You have the power to."

Crowley stood up, slamming his glass down. "And I've already taken care of it. There will not be an Armageddon!"

"What do you mean 'Armageddon is upon us?'" Crowley stared at the two demons in front of him. It had been over a year since his fight with Aziraphale. They hadn't even spoken to each other in the slightest. At least beforehand they had maybe called each other. Right now though he had more pressing matters, such as his bodyguards and the wicker basket Hastur held out to him.

"The moment we have been waiting for, for 6000 years." Ligur growled out, his chameleon having turned a dark yellow. "Right, Lord?"

"Of course it is!" Crowley snapped, heart pounding.

"Only eleven years." Hastur's black eyes almost twinkling.

"Yes. Eleven years." Crowley swallowed thickly, thinking fast. He didn't understand how it happened. "He's my son?"

"Yes." Ligur gave a sideways look to Hastur, his eyes darkening in hue. "Is there a problem, Lord Satan?"

Lord Satan? Since when...? Oh... oh fffff "No, no problem. Just curious on what happened to the human?"

"Back on earth. No memory." Hastur's eyes narrowed.

Crowley sighed. "Good." He cleared his throat. "Good she won't remember. Don't need humans knowing anything. So what's to happen now?"

"The boy will be implanted in the family of an American diplomat to Britain. The Satanic order will handle the switch. Legion will be taking him to the church."

"Legion? You expect me to let LEGION handle MY SON?" Crowley growled angrily. Legion was a lower level demon. And one who tends to have bad luck. "No. I will take my son to this Satanic church." He grabbed the basket out of Hastur's hand. "ALONE."

"Are you sure that is wise, Lord Satan?"

"Have you forgotten who I am. My son. My order. Is that clear?"

"Yes Lord Satan."

"Ciao!" Crowley walked out of his office, basket in hand, slamming the door.

"Wozzat mean, 'ciao'?" Ligur growled under his breath.

"Think it's French. Means 'food.'"

Crowley sped through the streets of London, cursing under his breath repeatedly. He was in a panic. Yes, he knew Armageddon was supposed to happen, but it was very different from just wishing for the end of the world, than actually bringing it to fruition. He cut around a corner, his Bentley leaning to just two wheels for a moment, landing hard back to four. The force of the motion caused the basket to slide from one side to the other, the lid popping open to reveal the crying infant. Crowley stole a glance through his rearview mirror and nearly crashed the car at the sight of the child. He focused on the road again, the last thing he needed to do was discorporate himself. He glanced in the mirror again, entranced at the sight of...HIS SON. He thought quick. he had to do something... and there was only one person he could trust. But would he be willing to talk to him?

He pulled up to Aziraphale's bookshop, and sat there for a few minutes. He thought back at the last time he had seen the angel. He had yelled at him, saying he was being stupid for not trusting him in his position. The look that crossed his friend's face. At the time he was to angry to back down. Too stubborn. And now it turned out, Aziraphale was right all along. He was the stupid one. Would he be forgiven? Most likely not. He was unforgivable. But... he had to at least try. Aziraphale may not want to help him, but he'd help the child, wouldn't he?

He got out, grabbing the basket from the back seat; the child having fallen asleep. He walk to the front doors, and hesitated. It used to be he was free to enter whenever he wanted, an open invitation Aziraphale extended to him when the shop first opened. Now though? He probably wasn't welcomed at all. He had to at least try. He knocked and held his breath as he heard footsteps approach.

"I do apologize, but we are most certainly CROWLEY!?" Aziraphale stares at the demon on his doorstep.

"Aziraphale, I need you're help. Please."

Without word, Aziraphale gestured him inside.

"Crowley, what are you doing here?" The angel drew the blinds closed on the door, and reinforced the lock with a blessing. "And why do you have a basket?"

"It's certainly not for a picnic, angel." Crowley lifted one lid so that Aziraphale could see the contents.

"Oh!"

"Yes."

"So, then this means...?"

"Armageddon. Yes."

"Oh dear." Aziraphale ran a finger over his pinky ring. "Well... uh... I think a drink is in store."

"An American Ambassador. Really?"

"It wasn't my choice. They just told me that's the best place for him." Crowley rubbed his eyes. "I was so certain we could avoid this angel, I just..."

Aziraphale looked at his friend, sitting there hands over his face. He hadn't seen the demon so stressed since the Spanish Inquisition.

"So what exactly is your plan, Crowley?"

Crowley sighed, fingers steepled over his mouth. "I dunno. He's my kid, Aziraphale. If I had a choice I'd run off with him. But I can't. All of hell would find me in an instant. What can I do?"

The angel couldn't sit still, his mind racing through ideas on what they could do. His eyes wondered over to the wicker basket that was the key to the end of the world. The child had short tufts of reddish brown hair, not at all like his father's; though it was very curly like Crowley's, the crown of curls circling his head. The child must look more like his mother.

"Aziraphale... I...ngk..." Crowley shook his head. "I'm sorry. You were right."

"I was?" Aziraphale blinked in confusion.

"About everything. I am in way over my head with this, and... I shouldn't have yelled at you like I did. I just..."

"It's alright, my dear. I'm sure your responsibilities are quite stressful."

Crowley let out a tired chuckle. "It's been over thirty years since I've heard that endearment."

"Thirty-four years to be exact." Aziraphale put his glass down.

"Some friend I've been. I missed this, angel." I miss you, was the unsaid sentiment.

"Crowley, could you come with me?"

Aziraphale walked through a doorway to a room that Crowley did not recognize. What was in this room caught the demon completely off guard. It was a tartan print thermos flask, it appeared to have not been touched in a very long time, given the thick layer of dust and cobwebs covering it. Crowley looked back and forth between Aziraphale and the table in confusion, the angel staring at the flask with a sad look on his face. He reached out for the flask, only to be stopped by the angel grabbing him by the wrist. He raised an eyebrow in question.

"Don't. It's very possible those cobwebs may have been blessed."

"Blessed? What would you bless cobwebs?" Then it hit him what was in the flask. "Wait...Is that?"

Aziraphale nodded. "The holiest. I had planned on giving it to you, had decided to give it to you when I heard you had plans to rob a church in 1967."

He HAD planned to rob a church, yes. The heist was all prepared, had sent out a low-key advert... But something else happened. 1967 was when hell found out he was friends with an angel. Things went exactly as he had feared, and he had to act. He DID act. He had always been stronger than Lucifer, stronger than most demons in hell. He'd had to act fast, and somehow or another ended up winning in that fight. Now, Lucifer was mucking around in the lower rings of hell, tending to the hellhound nurseries. Crowley stared at the blessed flask and wondered... what would have happened had things stayed on that course? If he hadn't been forced to take over? Well OBVIOUSLY they'd still be dealing with the apocalypse... but... how different could things have been? He looked at Aziraphale wistfully, wishing things WERE different. He opened his mouth, unsure of what to say. Before he could say anything, however, the clock hanging on a wall nearby chimed the hour. It broke the spell between them. Crowley counted the chimes, and cursed under his breath.

"I've got to go." Crowley walked back to the front room. He grabbed the basket and started towards the door.

"Crowley," Aziraphale called out, making him pause, hand on the door knob. "You do remember, you are always welcome here, right?"

Crowley looked back over his shoulder, giving a tired smile. "'Course, angel. 'preciate the offer."

He headed to the Bentley making a promise to himself to visit Aziraphale more often. As often as possible, considering what was to come sooner than later.


	2. Chapter 2

I upload foremost on ao3, i often forget to post here, sorry, but you'll get 2 updates today for this one, hope you enjoy

*NOW, YOU WOULD THINK THINGS IN THIS TIMELINE ARE DIFFERENT, AND ALL THINGS CONSIDERED, THEY WERE. BUT SOMETIMES FATES INTERTWINE...AND LIKE IN THE ORIGINAL TIMELINE, THE EXCHANGE WENT EXACTLY THE SAME, AND NO ONE WAS TO THE WISER... WE PICK UP THE STORY FIVE YEARS LATER, THE KING OF HELL CAN BE RATHER CURIOUS, SOMETHING THAT HAS BEEN A PART OF HIM SINCE BEFORE HE FELL. SO OF COURSE HE WOULD BE CURIOUS ABOUT HIS OWN SON. WHICH IS HOW HE ENDED UP APPROACHING THE DOWLING RESIDENCE IN DRESS YOU WOULD NOT EXPECT THE RULER OF ALL OF HELL TO BE WEARING. HE WAS DRESSED AS A WOULD-BE NANNY.*

Crowley walked towards the front gate, sure of his idea. Umbrella in one hand, carpet bag in the other, and hair in a tight no-nonsense bun. No one would ever recognize him. Not in the dark green woolen dress, not with how his make up masked his features perfectly. It was a foolproof plan. Or so he thought.

Just as he was reaching for the intercom button when a firm hand grabbed him by the upper arm, yanking him away from the gate. He bared his fangs, ready to discorporate whomever dared lay their hands on him. Then he recognized the person who stopped him.

"Angel?"

"What the HELL are you doing here?" Aziraphale whispered in a harsh voice. It had been a long time since Crowley had seen such fury in those blue eyes.

"Well, the Dowling are after hiring a nanny. You know how great I am great kids." The demon flashed a toothy grin.

"Oh yes. Just as well that all of the other applicants for the position mysteriously withdrew their applications on the same day?" Aziraphale raised an eyebrow at him, giving him a shrewd look, similar to the look he gave him 5000 years ago when he asked the demon if he was planning on rescuing the children from the great flood. "Crowley, I don't think it's WISE for you to put yourself here."

"He's my SON, angel!"

"Which is why you shouldn't be here! You're too close, Crowley. What would hell think if they see you here?"

Crowley shrugged, not really worried about that. "They're not going to find out, Aziraphale."

Aziraphale gave him a soft smile, reaching up to remove his glasses, the pair being of his smaller pair. He forced his friend to look in his eyes. "You're too close to see how dangerous it would be, for you AND the boy."

"But..." Crowley looked towards the house, his son so close. He hesitated for a moment, thinking. He sighed in defeat. Aziraphale was right. He'd put the child at risk interfering with his upbringing. He truly did want to prevent Armageddon. But it was possible interfering with the blasted plan would accelerate things instead. He rubbed a hand over his face. He suddenly felt very, very, tired. "Ugggh. I hate it when you're right. But, you are right angel. I just..."

"I know, my dear." Aziraphale cupped his cheek. "I know. How about this, I will keep an eye on him, from a distance mind you, and I keep you updated once in a while over some nice wine?"

Crowley chuckled. "Very well, angel. You have a deal."

They shook on it, and then Crowley headed back to his Bentley, leaving Aziraphale at the Dowling residence. The angel looked over to the house, fear of what was to come nagging the back of his mind. He then headed off, leaving the home of who they though belonged to the anti-Christ, hoping for the best.

Things went on as to be expected, the young child Warlock coming to the age of eleven, Crowley had personally selected the hell-hound that would stand by his son's side. It was the biggest of the newest litter, sure to be a vicious partner in the destruction of the world. All he had to do was name it, and that would be it.

"Name it?" Aziraphale asked. They were seated in the Bentley not far from the Dowling residence, where the boy's birthday party was happening.

Even though Crowley still hadn't seen the boy, he still felt it necessary to be near if he did come into his powers.

"Yeah, something like 'throat ripper' or 'stalks-by-night.' Once that happens, that's it." Crowley looked at his watch.

"You said it would be here at three?" Aziraphale towards the party, feeling on edge. The amount of children being near a hell-hound kept a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Yup."

The seconds counted and once it was three pm, both beings held their breath and waited.

And waited. It was well past three, and no sign of the hell-hound. Something was certainly very wrong. They looked at each other both having a very bad feeling.

"It's late. Are you certain it was sent here?" Aziraphale asked quietly.

Crowley frowned and held up a finger before pressing a switch on his radio. "Dagon, are you there?"

A voice spoke from the speakers. "Yes my Lord?"

"Yes, just making sure, has the hell-hound been sent out on time?"

"Yes, my Lord. It should be reaching your son by now. Is there a problem?"

Yellow eyes met blue. "No, no problem. Just wanted to make sure we're keeping to the schedule."

Crowley turned off the radio and the car was dead silent. In a distance the party was winding down and the kids were heading inside, perhaps for cake?

"No dog." Aziraphale's voice was tense.

"No dog." Crowley echoed.

"Wrong boy."

"Wrong boy."


	3. Chapter 3

IT WOULDN'T BE TOO LONG FOR THINGS TO CONTINUE. AS I MENTIONED, NOT VERY MUCH IS DIFFERENT IN THIS TIMELINE. EVERYTHING ABOUT THE RIGHT BOY WAS THE SAME AS THE TIMELINE YOU KNOW. IN FACT AS FAR AS THINGS ARE CONCERNED, WE CAN JUST MOSEY ON TO THE END OF OUR STORY. BOTH AZIRAPHALE AND CROWLEY RECEIVED THE SAME WARNINGS ABOUT HOW HEAVEN AND HELL WOULD... WELL TO BE FRANK, ACT RATHER CHILDISH. IN ALL HONESTY IF IT WERE POSSIBLE, I WOULD NOT HAVE ALLOWED SUCH A THING HAPPEN UNDER MY WATCH, BUT THESE TWO IN ANY TIMELINE DESERVE PEACE, EVEN IF IT TAKES TIME TO GET TO IT. EVEN IF HARSH LESSONS MUST BE LEARNED. AZIRAPHALE'S LACK OF A TRIAL WENT ON JUST AS YOU KNOW, HELLFIRE AND MY ARCHANGELS ACTING IN AN OPPOSITE MANNER BEFITTING OF ANGELS; AND WITH CROWLEY TAKING HIS FACE. WHAT HAPPENED DIFFERENT, WAS CROWLEY'S TRIAL, WHERE AZIRAPHALE STOOD IN HIS PLACE BETWEEN LUCIFER AND BEELZEBUB, AND A LARGE BATHTUB FULL OF HOLY WATER...

"I don't suppose there's anything I can say in my defense?" Aziraphale asked, wearing Crowley's face, hands tied in front of him. He stared at his accusers, eyes hidden by the dark shades.

"You've failed, Crowley. Every step of the way towards the war we were going to win, you got in the way. You even convinced the boy to change the very core of his being!" Lucifer shouted, blue eyes flashing red.

Indeed Crowley did. He had told Adam that since the universe would listen to him, he had every right to be mad at the one who was his biological father, and Aziraphale had voiced that Adam was exactly what he needed to be: HUMAN. In the end, Armageddon was halted, the four horsemen banished, and heaven and hell's Great War, stopped. And both sides not at all pleased.

"You've proven to be an inept ruler of hell, Crowley." Hastur sneered, black eyes full of hatred. "Spending all your time on earth, not spreading evil. For what? A wank-wing?"

Aziraphale shrugged, keeping his face neutral. Even though their friendship had grown tenuous when Crowley ruled in hell, he still knew the demon intimately for nearly 6000 years. He knew the demon's mannerisms more than he knew every book in his shop. He furrowed his brow at the thought of his bookshop, according to Crowley it had burned down. He shook his head, bringing himself back to the present. "Well, I just did what was best for me. Do want an apology?"

"No, Crowley. We have something in mind for a traitorous demon like you." Lucifer snapped his fingers, and through the door came the last person Aziraphale expected to see.

"The Archangel Michael... That's unlikely"

"Took a page from your book, cooperating with our old enemies. Figure you'd appreciate that." Dagon grinned menacingly, sharp teeth reflecting the low light in the chamber.

The archangel walked in, wearing a frilly white blouse. She poured the entirety of the clear jug of water into the bathtub. Aziraphale knew exactly what that liquid was. "That's holy water."

"The holiest." Michael gave a prim smile. Aziraphale wondered how he never realized the malice hidden beneath the surface. "I'll be back for it."

Aziraphale watched as they tested the water on a lesser demon, the blood in his veins going cold, suddenly very grateful the figured out that prophecy.

"Time to die, Crowley." Hastur grabbed his arm.

"Very well, but if you don't mind, this is a knew jacket. I'd hate to ruin it."

The angel in disguised stripped down to his underpants and approached the tub eyeing the deceptively clear water. Now was the time to shine.

The look on all of the demons faces when they watched him lean back in the tub, submerging all but his feet, was something he committed to memory. "I don't suppose that anywhere in the nine circles of hell there's such a thing as a rubber duck? No?"

The room was dead silent, looking in horror that anemone was immune to holy water. It certainly was unheard of, and yet there one was, the traitor, soaking in the stuff as if it was a relaxing bubble bath. Aziraphale turned to look at Lucifer and Beelzebub. "So you're probably thinking, 'if he can do this, what else can he do?' You've seen just what I can do in the past."

He stopped talking when a loud ding from the elevator. "I've come for the... oh lord!"

"Ah! Michael!, welcome to the party. Do me a quick miracle, I need a towel."

The prim and proper archangel found herself miracling a fluffy white towel into existence.

"I think it would be best, if I'm left alone from now on, yeah?" Everyone in the room nodded, not knowing what to say. Aziraphale wrinkled his nose. "Right."

MUCH LATER, AT AZIRAPHALE'S BOOKSHOP, THE TWO WERE BACK IN THEIR BODIES, AND FOR THE FIRST TIME IN A VERY LONG TIME, RELAXING. THEY SAT ACROSS FROM EACH OTHER IN THE BACKROOM. THEY WERE FINALLY FREE, AND ABLE TO REKINDLE THEIR FRIENDSHIP. THEY NEEDED THIS FREEDOM, AND I'M GLAD TO GIVE IT TO THEM.

This was actually loosley based on a dream i had, i decided to expand on it and thus this series was born


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